


Big Brother Is Watching You (And Not In The Creepy '1984' Way)

by EleanorC



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Jason is a good brother, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Somehow Jason is the one who has got his shit together, Tim Drake Birthday Hunt, Tim is 'Drake', Tim's self-esteem issues, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorC/pseuds/EleanorC
Summary: In which Damian makes some assumptions, Tim learns how to use a front door, and Jason discovers that being the big brothersucks.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 358





	Big Brother Is Watching You (And Not In The Creepy '1984' Way)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Titans_R_Us](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titans_R_Us/gifts).



> Hey!
> 
> Here's my contribution for the Tim Drake Birthday hunt on the Capes & Coffee discord! 
> 
> My very first Tim/Dami!

Tim is absolutely done with the day as he disables Jason’s security system. It’s a mark of how routinely he practices the skill that he can do it while eighty percent of his brain is busy analyzing what he did to deserve his current predicament. 

Of the remaining twenty percent brain capacity, fifteen is second-guessing his current course of action. That leaves five for picking the lock of Jason’s kitchen window while balancing precariously on the rickety windowsill. 

And absolutely none for spacial awareness, apparently, because when he finally slides the window open, he finds Jason sitting at the kitchen table right next to it, sipping tea. A steaming mug filled to the brim with what smells like coffee is set on the other side. 

“You must be really out of it if you took that long on the locks, Timmy,” Jason drawls. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I do have a front door, you know.”

Tim needs to suppress the urge to throw something at him. They’re passed the stage of trying to kill or severely injure each other, though, so instead he drops into the chair closest to the coffee, peeling his mask off and dropping it on the table. He contemplates doing something destructive with the coffee mug to let some of the tension out. But he decides that the poor coffee didn’t do anything wrong and doesn’t deserve to be punished for a crime it didn’t commit. Also, if he does that, he can’t drink it.

He doesn’t spit venom at Jason for the same reason. That, and the fact that Jason made him coffee and he’s here for advice he knows he won’t get if he pisses him off. The moment he sits down, half the tension in his muscles evaporates, and he’s left feeling weary and hollow. 

He’d really like to just plant his face on the table and take a twenty hour nap right about now, but even if Jason would let him, he doesn’t have time for shit like that. He heaves a big sigh and takes a sip of the coffee, letting it warm him both from inside and through his hands which he leaves wrapped around the mug. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “That wasn’t even close to the record.”

A soft thud signals Jason placing his mug on the table, and when Tim looks up he’s frowning at him. “You okay?”

Tim suppresses a second sigh and looks down at his coffee. “Honestly?”

“Duh.”

“No. Not really.” The ghosts of scathing words still echo in his ears. You’d think he’d be used to Damian criticising everything he does by now. Apparently a few years without it means he’s lost his thick skin. It’s amazing how easy it is to fall back into the routine of yelling back and forth, like they’re still seventeen and twelve, instead of twenty-four and nineteen. 

Jason lets him stew in silence until he’s drunk half his coffee. “Well, spit it out then. What are you doing here?” 

“Huh?”

Jason snorts. “What do you need, Tim? You wouldn’t come here if you didn’t need anything. Especially not in costume, which, Steph was wrong. It’s actually pretty cool. Even if the new handle is lame as fuck.” 

Tim is halfway through formulating a thanks when the last part of that sentence registers. 

“Excuse you, Drake is a great name.”

“Not saying it isn’t. Or it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t, you know,  _ your actual name _ .”

Tim’s very grateful for his training in fighting physical reactions right now as he furiously stomps down a blush trying to spread. No need to make his situation worse. 

“But that’s the genius part of it!” he says, finding the energy to sit up straighter. “It’s so stupid, no one would ever expect it. And I mean, lots of people think ducks are lame, but they’re actually a really interesting species. Like, their chicks hatch completely ready to function, they can walk, have feathers, and can swim within hours. They also have incredible eyesight, and they can literally sleep with one eye open to protect a group.”

Jason’s doing that thing where he looks at you like  _ you _ were the one who took a dip in the lazarus pit. but Tim doesn’t care. He thought about this handle for a long time, and people should see how cool it really is. “Because nobody thinks of them as dangerous, they underestimate them,” he continues. “But for such little buggers, they’re actually really feisty.”

“You mean like you?” Jason asks, and for once Tim doesn’t feel the urge to strangle Jason after he mentions his size. 

“Exactly!”

“You do realize drakes are bastards who basically group-rape the females of their species, right?” Jason says, an amused grin on his face. “Sometimes to the point where it kills the hens.”

Tim bristles. “Yeah, well. Obviously I’m not about to do  _ that. _ ”

“Because you have no interest in sex with women, or because your dick doesn’t corkscrew?” 

Jason’s having way too much fun with this. 

“Both.”

Jason hufs a laugh and lets a silence settle between them as he sips his tea. Tim looks back down at his coffee and takes a sip as well. It’s reasonably good, considering Jason never touches the stuff himself. Not as good as Damian makes it, though. 

It’s an unwanted thought. Especially now that Damian has gone back to criticizing his every move. It doesn’t matter that he makes coffee just the way Tim likes it, because he hasn’t made any for him since he came back from his most recent multiverse trip. The worst part is that he hasn’t got a clue as to why.

“Do you know what I did to piss Damian off recently?” Tim asks Jason, and it’s both easier than it should be and more difficult than he expected to lace his voice with the old poison. 

“The demon brat? Nah. Can’t say I’ve spoken to him much since you got back and Bruce stopped pushing him on me,” Jason says, and even that is news to Tim. 

“Pushing him on you?”

“Yeah, he was too busy trying to figure out what happened to you, so he dumped Damian on me to patrol with,” Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t too bad actually. Kid knows his stuff and knows to keep his mouth shut when I use a bit more force than technically allowed according to bat-protocol.”

Tim feels torn between resignation and anger. “I guess it’s really just me he has a problem with, then.”

Jason frowns. “Is he bothering you?”

“It’s like I went about five years back in time,” Tim admits. “It’s absurd. I can’t even breathe without him finding something to criticize. He damn near broke my arm in sparring despite me tapping out.”

“Damn,” is Jason’s helpful reply. “That’s rough, Timmy.”

He can’t quite suppress the huff that builds in his lungs. “No shit. I just wish I knew what I did so I could do something about it.”

Jason is silent for a long time, and Tim fights the urge to start fidgeting under his gaze. Jason’s got an inquisitive stare that nearly equals Bruce’s when it comes to the family. 

He’s nearly finished his coffee when Jason speaks up again. “Have you tried asking him?”

Tim lets his grimace answer for him, to which Jason sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I keep telling Artemis that the Robins are better about talking about feelings than Batman. Please don’t make me a liar.” 

And he has a point there, but. “Look,” Tim says. “If you found yourself on the pointy end of a katana on a nightly basis, would you stop to ask  _ why _ the holder feels you deserve to have it pointed at you?” 

Jason shrugs. “You never seemed to have trouble psychoanalyzing me when I came at you.”

He snorts. “That’s different.”

“How?”

They don’t mention this often. Neither of them likes to remember the times they got close to permanently harming each other. After Tim was just completely done with the fighting, he’d cornered Jason with a six-pack of beer and they’d talked it over for an hour. Which was followed by another hour of mutual bitching about Bruce and Dick. Then they’d agreed never to speak of it again.

Considering they’ve never so much as made each other bleed since, outside of some sparring accidents, it’s working for them. 

“You were an actual enemy. The banter is part of the distraction stratagem used when fighting an opponent who physically outmatches you.”

Jason’s visibly fighting a smile. “And I suppose that’s why you still play therapist whenever we spar?”

“Someone needs to do it. God knows you’ll die again before you’ll go see a proper one.” 

Jason stops fighting the smile and laughs. “You’re such a little shit.”

Tim turns his most innocent smile on him. “I’m just trying to be a good brother. I do the same with Dick.”

“So why not with Damian?” And while Tim went to Jason because he knows he won’t let him get away with his shit, it doesn’t stop him from getting annoyed that he knows just where to press so it hurts. 

“Because that only works when I’m not the target of the issues. Even when you and me were really going at it, your real problem was with Bruce.” Tim runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “If I were to attempt that with Damian right now, I’m pretty sure he’d legit kill me.”

He hates how his voice trembles at the end. He hates how it makes Jason round the table and pull him into a hug in a uncharacteristic display of affection. He hates how much he needs that hug right now. Most of all, he hates how it makes him spill just a little more than he means to. 

“I thought we were passed this.”

* * *

Not even the feeling of flying through Gotham’s streets can lessen the amount of anger running through Damian’s veins as he barrels towards his destination. No. Not his destination. It’s not like he intended to end up here. He’s just clearing his head. And while he’s in Crime Alley, he may as well check in on Todd. 

It’s not like the imbecile will keep them updated on his status on his own. It’s not like Damian ever gets worried. Especially not for his most wayward brother. But Grayson worries over  _ everything _ , so checking up on Todd while he’s close by anyway will make him happy. 

It’s the lie Damian keeps telling himself as he flits from one empty safehouse to the next. He’s not usually in the habit of lying to himself, but he finds that hiding stuff from his brothers is easier when he’s convinced himself there’s nothing to hide in the first place. 

At the next safe house he tries he spots Todd’s civilian jacket hanging on a hook by the door, and he figures he may as well just wait inside. The lock on the window is more complicated than he expects, but he grits his teeth and keeps working on disabling the security. 

_ Timothy would be through this in thirty seconds flat _ . 

The thought is as unwelcome as it is unhelpful, and Damian stomps it down. It doesn’t matter what Drake can or cannot do. Damian doesn’t need him. Time ticks on into minute number four of disabling Todd’s security, and he’s starting to think Todd may be a bit overzealous in how well he defends his safehouses. He tries not to think about how appalled his father would be if he could see how long it’s taking Damian to get through it. 

He’s so annoyed with himself that he makes an even worse error. 

He forgets to pay attention to his surroundings. 

“You know. I keep telling people to use my front door, but I wasn’t aware you even know where I live, so I’ll give you kudos for finding the place at all.”

To Damian’s credit, he doesn’t flinch. That doesn’t mean his heart isn’t in his throat, though. 

“Tt, and when was the last time you used the manor’s front door?” he asks, looking up find Todd in full gear looking down at him from the roof. 

“Two days ago,” is the simple answer. “When I had tea with Agent A.”

Damian levels a glare at his brother, who just smiles smugly, and lowers himself down next to him so he can disable the security in a few simple steps. He lets him in and closes the window and curtains before taking his helmet off and gesturing for Damian to sit. 

“Chai?” he asks, and Damian nods before sitting down. Now that he’s inside he can see this isn’t just a safehouse. The sheer amount of books, all meticulously ordered and placed on shelves, as well as the lived in feel gives it away. It’s neat, like many of Todd’s safehouses, but where those are nearly sterile, this apartment shows it’s being used. 

Clean dishes sit in a rack to dry, there’s a shopping list scrawled on a blackboard, and there’s a book with a bookmark on the coffee table. When Jason opens the fridge to get himself a beer, he sees it’s well stocked. 

Maybe the security wasn’t that over the top after all. 

A steaming cup of chai is placed in front of Damian, pulling him out of his revery. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” 

Just like that, all the lies Damian told himself to get this far fall away, and he’s left with no other option than to admit to himself why he gravitated here. 

“Drake is being insufferable.” He puts as much venom into the name as he can. It’s more difficult than it ought to be. That only serves to annoy him further. 

“Oh?” It’s all the prompting he gets to elaborate but that’s okay. It’s all he needs. 

“He’s risking all of us with that handle!” Damian just about explodes. “He  _ claims _ he was tired of the double Robin confusion, but with the amount of time he spends with the Titans, everyone knows that’s just an excuse. And even if it were even remotely believable, there are dozens of better codenames than  _ that _ .”

Jason’s lifting one eyebrow at him in a way that is reminiscent of Pennyworth, but Damian ignores it in favor of continuing what he knows is a tirade. 

“If he thinks Vale will fall for it, he’s proving yet again that Grayson and father overestimate him.”  _ That I overestimate him,  _ he doesn’t add. 

"It risks everything the entire family works for! Not to mention he works closely enough with the Titans to risk them too." From the corner of his eye, he can see Jason's other eyebrow joining the first, but he doesn't interrupt or judge beyond that. It's one of the reasons Damian came here. "Doesn't he see that the entire hero community is a house of cards waiting to drop? On top of that, he removed the only innovative part of his gear that gave him an edge. What was he thinking getting rid of the gliding system that last cape provided? Now he's even more useless in the field than he already was."

He keeps ranting, and Jason let's him. It does nothing to release the pressure like it usually does. He knows why, even if he doesn't want to admit it. It's not the things he's complaining about that truly bother him. 

Eventually he admits to himself that it's not helping, and he circles back to his initial point. The one that's the problem. 

"And does he really think I'll believe some ridiculous story about how ducks are cooler than I think?  _ He _ doesn't need to educate me on the characteristics of avian species. We all know he considers me a hostile to prepare contingencies for. He's done it before."

Finally Jason speaks up. "You think that's why he changed his handle? Because of you?" 

Damian doesn't want to believe that, but it's what the evidence points towards. "Why else would he pick a handle as idiotic as that one?" he asks, and grits his teeth over the next part. "As if he thinks I'm still immature enough to mess up in the field. But if he's going to slight me like this, the least he can do is be honest about it."

* * *

Jason's fingers tighten on the helmet he's carrying as he approaches Dick's front door. Because he's apparently the only civilized person in the family besides Alfred and he knows how not to break into the homes of his family and friends. 

It takes an absurd amount of time for Dick to open the door, despite the fact that Jason  _ knows _ his brother is home. (Okay so he checked from the roofs whether he was first, he's still better than the rest of the bat brood.) 

Dick looks surprised anyone is at his door, despite the fact that Jason  _ always _ uses it when he visits. Which is admittedly not often, but often enough Dick shouldn’t be wearing such a flabbergasted expression anymore. 

“Jay!” Dick says with a big smile once he gets over himself. “What makes you haul yourself to the haven?” He pulls the door further open and Jason allows him a hug. 

“Hey Dick,” he says. “Got something I wanted to ask you.” 

Dick immediately frowns and pulls back even as he pulls him into the apartment. He can’t blame him, he’s doesn’t ask Dick for advice often and when he does, he’s usually very roundabout about it. But now that he’s had both Tim and Damian in his home within the span of a week, he realizes just how tedious it is to have to sit around and wait for a sibling to get over themselves and tell you what’s up.

“What’s wrong?”

Jason shrugs. “Not really wrong. Just not sure what to do about something. And I want to complain.” That’s when he notices Dick’s wearing his coat and shoes. “You going somewhere?”

Dick’s smile turns a bit guilty. “I was about to head to the manor,” he confesses. “Bruce has a Justice League thing, and I’m supposed to be filling in.” 

Shit. 

“Oh. Never mind, then,” Jason says. “We can talk some other time.”

He turns to leave, but Dick grabs his wrist lightly. “Wait, no. If you came all the way out here, it’s gotta be important, right?”

“Not important enough to skip out on duty.” 

“We can talk on the way there?”

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t trust people not to hack into the comms.” 

“Let’s take the car, then.”

He wants to refuse, doesn’t want to leave his bike here, but then he remembers yet again how annoying little brothers can apparently be. He nods, visibly surprising Dick yet again. 

Dick drives, and Jason waits just long enough that they are out of the worst of Bludhaven traffic before breaching the subject. 

“Tim and Damian are fighting again,” he says without prefacing. “Almost as badly as they used to.”

“Almost as badly, how? Because from how far they’ve come, I find that hard to imagine.”

“Damian got benched for almost breaking Tim’s arm while training.” 

“Shit.” Dick frowns. “Think that’s why B called me to Gotham? Is it an excuse to get me to make them behave?” 

Jason shrugs. “Could be. Though I don’t think Bruce even realizes it’s happening beyond that one incident. There really is something major going on with the JLA. Major enough that Tim might be heading for Titans Tower.” 

“Did  _ you _ want to make me deal with it?”

He huffs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’d love it if you would, actually, but no. I’m here to sit and complain about the fact that both of them have decided I’m the go-to person to nag about the other.” 

“You?” There’s a large dose of doubt lacing Dick’s voice. 

“That’s what I thought!” Jason says, letting frustration bleed through. “What the hell are those two twerps thinking, coming to me with this shit? I’d think my relationship with Bruce demonstrates I’m not the guy to go to for advice about family disputes. I don’t know shit about how to fix stuff like that without escalating it first. But now the little shits have got me worried about them and it  _ sucks _ .” Not that Damian is really little anymore, but if dick still calls  _ him _ his little brother after he outgrew him by three inches, he can call the batbrat whatever he wants. Damian is never going to catch up with him completely. 

Dick falls silent, and when Jason turns to look at him, he’s got that hurt puppy look on his face that only he can quite pull off. And fuck if that doesn’t usually preface Dick whining about something and hating himself. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now, stop it,” Jason says. “It’s bad enough that I’m forced to play big brother to the twerps, I’m not ready to embrace the middle child vibe.”

“Why didn’t they come to me?” Part of him wants to comfort Dick, because he knows it must hurt at some level that they still don’t trust him after he came back from the fake death thing. 

“That’s what I want to know, but it’s also irrelevant in this moment,” he says instead. “So get over yourself, Dickhead, this is about the brats, not you or me.” He pauses. “Well, a little about me, because I need to know how to help them.”

Dick sighs and steels himself. 

“What exactly are they fighting about?” he asks after a while.

“Drake.”

“Huh?”

“Tim’s new handle,” Jason elaborates. “From what I could gather while Damian was ranting at me, he thinks Tim chose it as some sort of contingency designed to keep Damian from accidentally outing him in the field. Tim claims he doesn’t actually know why Damian is mad, and I haven’t seen them at it myself so that could be true. He may just be reacting to Damian’s hostility.”

“I keep forgetting Tim’s changed his handle again. It’s definitely a reasoning I could have seen him make when Damian was still set on throwing him out of the family, though.”

“I don’t know, Dick. There’s definitely something iffy about him choosing that handle, but that ain’t it. If how hard he had to work to hide how hurt he is by Damian’s behavior is any indication, he’s not seeing Damian as a hostile anymore.” 

They fall into silence as Dick turns onto the manor drive. 

When he parks in the garage, neither make a move to get out of the car right away. 

“The problem is that I don’t actually have a lot of experience interpreting Damian’s behavioral patterns,” Jason says. “With Tim, it’s obvious he’s more hurt and reacting than anything else, but I don’t know what to make of Damian’s anger. You’d probably be able to tell more.”

Dick sighs. “And that’s probably why he went to you over me. Sounds to me like he wanted to vent without being judged. If he’s trying to hide something deeper, then he wouldn’t come to me since he knows I can read him and he doesn’t trust me the way he used to anymore.”

“Think you could pull it out of him?”

“I think I’d just be damaging my own relationship with him more if I tried.” Jason can see Dick is considering doing it anyway, for their sakes. He can’t let him so that. 

“Nah. I’ll figure it out,” he says. “It sucks, but they came to me, so I guess that means I gotta do something with it. Can’t promise I won’t fuck it up, though.”

“All you can do is try. God knows I fucked up with those two,” Dick smiles sadly. “In hindsight, it’s not that weird that Tim would go to you, either. Not only are you part of the ‘used to hate him’ squad and therefore more likely to understand what part of him annoys Damian so much, I’ve also admittedly tended towards supporting Damian over him in the past. It’s not something he’s going to let me forget any time soon.”

Jason doesn’t acknowledge that beyond a hum. They both know it’s true. “So do you have any tips on looking into Damian’s mental state?” 

“There’s no obvious tells that I can describe without you seeing it for yourself, but he does have them. He tends to hide a lot of what he’s feeling behind anger, so there may be something else. He also just used to be a very angry person, so maybe he’s falling back to that in the face of something unfamiliar.” Dick sighs. “The only real advice I can give you is to watch him interact with others. Compare it to how he currently behaves around Tim.” 

Jason thinks about that and nods slowly. “That’s more long term than I was hoping for, but it will do, thanks.” With that, he opens the door and gets out of the car. “I’m gonna head to the cave and steal a bike. I’ll come get my own at some point over the next couple days.” 

He walks off towards the garage door with a wave. 

“Hey Jay?” Dick calls as he gets out of the car himself, and Jason stops and turns. “Thank you for coming to me. It means a lot.” 

He would like to say he doesn’t know what Dick means. That now that he’s experienced it he doesn’t like being a big brother at all. But the idea of Tim and Damian  _ not _ coming to him when they have stuff to deal with doesn’t sit right, so he smiles and waves him off. “Sure thing.”

He knows Dick will go by the kitchen to stuff himself on free cereal first, so he doesn't wait for him to follow as he heads for the cave. He considers making a quick detour to find Alfred, but he needs to get home to prepare for patrol himself as well. 

It turns out to be unnecessary as he finds the man at the bottom of the stairs to the cave, standing silently in the shadows. It's clear why he's there, as the sad look on his face isn't one he'd usually allow anyone to see. 

Angry voices drift from the equipment area, one scathing, the other cold as ice. Jason stops beside Alfred and peeks around the corner at where Tim is packing a bag, mechanically checking the quality of his gear before placing each item in the duffel. 

Notably, he doesn't expose his back to Damian at any time, who stands in training gear and with his arms crossed, glaring as he criticizes Tim. "-responsible to leave the city right now."

Tim sighs and pauzes packing. "Bruce asked me to bring in the Titans. Coordinating between them and the JLA will be much more effective if I'm at the tower." He's speaking slowly and in the voice Tim explained to Jason one drunken night is his Janet-Drake voice. 

It confirms that Tim is on the defensive in this situation, as he only uses it when he needs to hide how much something is hurting him.

Damian is a pulsing center of rage by comparison. It's as good an opportunity to follow Dick's advice as any, so Jason narrows his eyes and takes a closer look at Damian's body language. 

There's something off about the way he holds himself as he continues to lay into Tim verbally. And he tenses up further when Tim resumes packing his bag. 

Neither Jason nor Alfred speak as they observe the boys fighting, but after a while, Jason does get an idea. He sneaks through the shadows towards where there are several tablets stored which can connect to the batcomputer database. 

He carefully sneaks back, knowing full well he never would have managed it without attracting the attention of the boys if they hadn't been so absorbed in fighting. When back in the shadows he pulls his Bluetooth headset out of his pocket and hooks it up to the tablet. Then he pulls up old security footage from years ago and finds one of the bigger fights between Tim and Damian without too much effort. 

He's aware of Alfred shifting next to him, watching the footage along with him. 

He holds it up so he can compare nineteen year old Damian to fourteen year old Damian. 

The difference is stunning. Where the Damian on the tablet displays all the signs of trying to intimidate and overpower, and everything about him screams aggression, the Damian screaming at Tim in real time is putting up a front. He still seems like he's inches away from attacking, but he's more subdued in a way Jason can't quite place, despite knowing he's seen it before. 

Ironically, it’s Tim who clues him in on where to look for it. 

“Look. I get it. You don’t think I’m capable of pulling my weight,” his voice echoes towards them. “But can you please leave your insecurities regarding your own place in the family out of it?” 

It takes only a few tabs to open up another archived file. This one containing an argument between Damian and Bruce. 

And even as Tim zips up his bags and moves towards his bike, Jason realizes just how wrong this argument really is. Because Damian is just as hurt by it as Tim is. 

It’s not something Jason would have thought of if he didn’t have the direct comparison, but here it is. This is what Damian acts like when he’s afraid he’s being rejected. Which Jason is pretty sure isn’t what Tim’s doing at all. 

He wants to groan and bang his head against the wall over just how unnecessary all this drama probably is. He doesn’t, but something in his expression must betray what he’s thinking because Alfred speaks up. 

“And now you know how I feel whenever one of you decides to take after him in the one area I wish you’d skip.” 

“I’d like to say I was never that bad but that would be lying.”

“Indeed.”

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“Somewhat.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alfred smiles a rare smile. “Thank you, Master Jason. That is appreciated.”

Jason returns the smile until Tim finally loses his cool and his voice breaks. 

“Fine. You win,” he says as he swings his legs over his bike and grabs his helmet. “It’s obvious nothing I can do will ever convince you I’m worthy, I might as well stop wasting my energy on trying.” 

With that he revs his bike, and speeds out of the cave, leaving Damian staring at the exit. 

Jason decides he’s hidden in the shadows long enough. He puts the tablet away and grabs a set of keys before making his way over to Damian. He doesn’t say anything as he stands next to him, doesn’t even look at his face to give him privacy. Pretends he doesn’t see the way his shoulders shake. 

“Why doesn’t that feel like a victory?” Damian asks in a whisper. 

“Probably because it wasn’t.”

If this were Tim or Dick, Jason wouldn’t think twice about pulling them into a hug. With Damian, he knows better. Besides, Damian  _ is  _ nearly as tall as he is, so the effect would be lost. 

Instead, he places a hand on his shoulder, and says, “When you’re ready to talk about what’s really bothering you, you know where to find me.” 

With that, he walks over to another bike and makes his way home. 

* * *

Even Tim couldn’t have predicted it would take weeks for him to return to Gotham after his last fight with Damian. As he’d driven out of Gotham with tears in his eyes he’d figured he’d either be back within days or not at all. 

The Titans are like a safety blanket, even as they work with the JLA to block yet another alien invasion. But he doesn’t tell them why he doesn’t go back when the others go home. 

In the end, what pushes him back to Gotham is the need to talk about it, and his phone keeps burning a hole in his pocket, where there’s a single text that keeps him up at night. 

_ You can come talk to me about it whenever - Jay  _

It arrived within five minutes of him leaving the cave, and a little hacking showed him both Jason and Alfred had witnessed most of the fight. It also showed him that Jason offered the exact same thing to Damian, which actually makes Tim feel a little better. 

Jason’s a good listener, maybe that’s what Damian needs to get over whatever Tim did to piss him off so badly. Maybe then they can at least go back to pretending Damian accepts him into the family. 

It’s when Kon informs him he’s started talking in his sleep again that he decides to go back and talk to Jason again. 

He arrives late enough at Jason’s building that he should be back from patrol, and he swings by a shop to get them a six pack of Jason’s favorite beer before heading over to his building. Just the thought of going through the hassle that is disabling Jason’s security makes him grimace, so he walks over to the main entrance instead. 

On the elevator ride up, he decides Jason has a point when he claims he’s the most normal one of them. It feels weird to enter an apartment complex via this route. But that might just be because he’s in full gear.

He’s about to knock on Jason’s front door when he realizes he’s hearing voices inside. A bit muffled but intelligible when he concentrates. 

“Okay, I get that you’re hurt.” Jason says, his voice soothing. “But why are you so convinced that’s why Tim chose it?”

Tim’s heart instantly jumps to his throat as he guesses who Jason must be talking to, but before he can leave like he should, Damian is already answering. 

“What else could it be?” he asks, and Tim finds his world tilting at just how broken he sounds. He doesn’t even sound that small and insecure after a fight with Bruce. “I called him Drake in the field for years, just to annoy him. Why wouldn’t he make contingencies in case I decide to do it again?” 

The moment that clicks into place, Tim wants to stab himself with a rusty batarang.  _ He _ did this. All this time he wondered what got up Damian’s ass to piss him off, and in the end it’s all Tim’s fault. 

Of course it is. All he does is break things, if even only by proximity. 

Or in this case selfishness. 

“I thought we were passed this,” Damian says, and all Tim can hear is the echo of his own voice saying those same words in the same place.

The six pack slips from his numb fingers and lands on the ground with a loud thump, but he’s already running for the elevator again. At the last moment he changes course and decides to run up the stairs to the roof instead. 

Damian’s words echo inside his head, and he knows there’s no place to escape them. Instead he shoots his grapnel and flies through the streets as fast as he can. He doesn’t stop until his arms are shaking badly enough that falling becomes a genuine concern. 

He’s not even sure where he is until he takes a moment to orientate himself. He’s on the edges of the diamond district, on one of the higher buildings with a pretty decent view of the city. He thinks he’s fought Damian on this rooftop before. 

He’s fought him on a lot of rooftops.

His legs refuse to support him any longer, and he drops to sit on the roof, his eyes settled somewhere in the distance. 

How did he manage to screw up this bad? How had he not known choosing Drake as a handle would hurt Damian? Is he so selfish he didn’t even consider what it would do to those he cares about?

“I’d be proud you tried to use my front door if you hadn’t had the worst timing in the world,” a voice says behind him after a while, but he doesn’t have the energy to even flinch. 

“I’m an idiot,” he says instead, not looking away from the sky. “A cruel, arrogant idiot who should really have known better.”

“Oh?” Jason says as he sits down beside Tim. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“I didn’t even consider that Damian might be hurt if I chose Drake as a handle. It didn’t even occur to me he’d think I was doing it as a contingency.”

“I take it you could hear us through the door, then?” 

“I wasn’t there for very long,” Tim says. “Thirty seconds tops.”

“But long enough to hear Damian in a state he wouldn’t want you to see him in.”

“In a state I put him in,” Tim corrects. 

"I'm gonna go ahead and assume you didn't mean to," Jason says. 

Tim turns to give him an incredulous stare. "Did I mean to hurt him with the lowest blow I could manage? Of course not!" 

"But you did." His temporary indignation bleeds out of him instantly. 

"Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do," he confesses. 

Jason wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Not much you can do about that now," he says. "At least now that you know what the problem is, you can do something about it."

That would be true if telling Damian the truth was an option, but Tim doesn't think that would go over any better. And if he could’ve gotten away with the excuses he's been making he wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place. 

"It's not that simple," he says and Jason scoffs. 

"I know we're all collectively allergic to expressing how we feel in an emotionally stable way, but talking does tend to be the easiest road to understanding."

"Not with this."

He can feel Jason’s eyes on him, but he can’t make himself face him. It’s bad enough that he feels a blush threatening to spread as Jason gets closer to finding out what he’s been desperately trying to hide. 

If only he could’ve suppressed his selfish tendencies like he normally does, no one would have ever found out. 

“Why not?” Jason challenges. 

“It just  _ is _ .” He knows he needs to do better than that, but he can’t for the life of him think of a valid lie right now. 

Jason sighs. “Look. If he’s not the problem, just tell the Batbrat it’s got nothing to do with him calling you Drake for years.” 

The silence is deafening as Tim lets that sink in and tries to find an alternative explanation why he can’t say that because it would, technically, be a lie. Because it does have to do with Damian, just not in the way he thinks. And no one can ever find out the truth. 

But it’s already too late, as Jason’s arm around him tightens at the intensity of Tim’s blush. He still refuses to look at him, but there’s no need. 

“Unless, it does have  _ something _ to do with Damian, of course,” Jason muses, and Tim knows he’s  _ so _ screwed.

* * *

It’s not until after Todd has left for over five minutes that Damian realizes just who was listening at the door. It should anger him further, but he finds that he doesn’t have the will for it. 

He’s been angry for so long, he simply doesn’t have the energy for it anymore. And now that he’s let the facade down to talk to Todd about it honestly—or at least as honestly as he can without giving too much away—he can’t seem to pull the shield back up.

He considers following him and confronting Tim again, but he doesn’t think that would go well for him considering how raw he feels. The last thing he wants is for Tim to find out about his closest kept secret since he realized just how drastically his opinion of him had changed (the first order of busyness had been to hide the evidence from Alfred). 

Instead, he sits in Todd’s living room, leafing through a few books before settling on one. He’s read through half of it before Todd comes in through the front door. 

Damian tenses up for a moment, half expecting Tim to be there as well, but he closes the door behind him and turns to him. 

“If you’re gonna stay over, at least go to sleep,” he says as he takes his gear off. 

“What did he say?” Damian asks, closing the book and standing up to follow him to the kitchen. 

“Tim?” 

“No, my grandfather,” he says sarcastically. “Of course I meant Tim.”

“I’m not telling you that, Babybat.” Jason opens his fridge to take out a beer, pauses, and puts it back in favor of a bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge. He pours himself a glass and turns to Damian with a raised eyebrow. 

He nods and a few seconds later he has a glass of his own in his hand. 

“Why not? He didn’t have a problem listening in on me.”

Jason looks at him for what feels like a long time before answering and when he does, his tone, while faintly apologetic, is also firm. “He didn’t mean to. He left the moment he recognized your voice.” 

That means he heard at least part of it, though. Damian tells Jason so. 

“Yeah, but accidentally listening in is different from having information told in confidence shared with you.”

He still doesn’t like it. “I thought you wanted us to make peace?”

“I do. But I also want to keep both of your trust,” Jason says softly. “You’re both my brothers in a way, and if I tell you what Tim told me, I lose his trust. Just like I would’ve lost yours if I’d told him what else you told me.” He pauses and frowns. “Fuck, you’ve got me sounding like Dick now.”

“So you’re just going to let us fight it out?”

“No.” Jason throws the whiskey back and moves right in front of Damian to look him directly in the eye. “You need to talk to him.  _ Really _ talk to him. In a place where he can’t back out, but also where he’s otherwise in control. Making him speak his real thoughts is a pain in the ass, but I promise if you do, the two of you can work things out.”

“Won’t that just make things worse again?” It’s not that he’s not willing to try, but he’s not sure how that would help. 

“Not if you keep your cool and are civilized about it,” Jason replies easily, like there’s no doubt in his mind it’s true. “The difference is that he now knows part of why you acted the way you did. Now you just need to make it clear that you want to understand him, too.”

Damian stares into his glass for a long moment, turning the advice over in his head. “You truly think that would help?” 

“Yes, I do,” Jason says. “I’ve put way too much energy into you two for it not to work at this point. If it doesn’t I’m locking the both of you in a room with Dick and then you’ll have to deal with him trying to make everything okay through the power of hugs, glitter, and positivity. I don’t think either of you want to be put through that.”

With that happy message, Jason turns and walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Damian thinks of his options. Waiting for Todd to lock him and Tim in with Grayson of all people is not acceptable. Both because he doesn’t want Grayson to be involved and because it feels cowardly not to try his utmost before giving up. 

Deciding on a place to corner Tim which matches all the characteristics Todd suggested is easy. Thinking of what to say to make him talk without coming across as hostile is not.

Still, he manages to come up with an approximation of a game plan, and throws the whiskey back much like Todd did before heading back to the couch, face planting on it, and promptly falling asleep. He’s going to need it if he wants to complete his plan.

The next morning he drives home to shower and change before heading to the civilian garage and leaving for the city again. He stops by Tim’s favorite coffee place and buys a caramel latte and a black tea as well as a breakfast bagel for both of them. Then he heads to the WE office. 

His first hurdle to overcome is the receptionist at the main desk, but he smiles and spins a tale of Tim leaving some papers that he needs at home and before he knows it, he’s in the executive elevators. 

The second hurdle turns out to not be a hurdle at all, as Tam Fox gives him a single glance, the breakfast a longer one, and then waves him in with a, “As long as you make sure he eats that, I don’t care how much you yell at him in the meantime.”

He enters Tim’s office without knocking and finds him at his desk, eyes glued to the screen of his computer. 

“Tam! Great timing,” he says. “I finished the Molinger report, can you run it down to—” He stops talking when he spots him. His eyes widen in some emotion he’d rather not label as fear, but which is worryingly close. 

“Damian,” he stammers as he stands up and eyes the windows. “What brings you here.”

“I’d like to speak to you,” Damian says. “And while I’m speaking you’re going to sit back down and eat breakfast.” 

Getting him something to eat was the right decision, even if Tim is unlikely to admit it; he’s lost weight in the last couple of weeks. Damian sets the cupholder and the bag with the bagels on the desk. Then he carefully lifts first the coffee from the holder and sets it in front of Tim, before picking up his tea and taking a sip. 

He looks pointedly at Tim until the man sits down and pulls the bag towards himself. 

He must have at least thought to drink coffee this morning then.

Tim hands him one of the bagels and gestures for him to sit before taking a bite out of his own. 

Damian takes a seat. “Todd refused to tell me how much you heard or what you spoke of with him after.”

Tim looks like he wants to say something in response but he silences him with a mild glare. 

“He was right to, of course,” he continues. “But he did seem to imply that we’ve been miscommunicating severely. I wish to remedy that.”

The bagel must be very interesting, as Tim carefully keeps his eyes on it as he chews and formulates a response. Several emotions flicker in his eyes. Shame, fear, sadness, and eventually he settles on resignation. Damian can’t help but notice there’s no anger or hate there. “That’s fair,” Tim says. 

“Good.” Damian says and then pauses to go over his plan again. The plan that he meticulously outlined the night before in order to be as open as he can be without spilling too much. “I was worried when you were gone. I don’t like expressing it, but I do care about everyone in our family. So when none of us knew if or when you’d come home and where you’d gone, I was worried.”

That’s an understatement, but Tim doesn’t need to know just how close to snapping Damian had been. Only Todd seemed to be able to calm him down. 

“When I heard you’d returned, I was happy. Because the family is stronger with you there, and because I missed you. And for once in my life, I decided it was okay to maybe share that with you when I saw you.”

Now, he’s baring much more than he originally intended, but perhaps it’s better this way. Now he can get a part of it out of his system and hopefully the rest of his unwelcome feelings for Tim will die off naturally. 

“But when I came down to the cave to greet you, I heard you talking to father, and I heard the new handle, and it was like being hit in the face with a rusty hammer.”

Tim puts his bagel down. “Because you thought I did it as a measure against you.”

“Yes.”

Finally, Tim raises those clear blue eyes to meet his, and the sorrow reflected in them is nearly overwhelming. “I’m so sorry, Damian. I never meant to hurt you.”

It’s about as genuine as one can get, and still he doesn’t feel like he’s hearing everything. 

“Then why did you lie about it?” he says.

Tim’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn—”

“Please don’t,” Damian interrupts. “I know every motivation you gave about the name is true, but it’s not the full reason. There’s something else, and lying by omission is still lying.”

Despite himself, he can feel the tension in the room rising. He can see Tim’s hackles rise and sees him switching towards defense. 

“Because it was private. I didn’t think anyone needed to know.” A lie.

“Bullshit. Are you really going to insist on lying, still?”

“Since when are you the expert on whether or not I’m telling the truth?” Tim spits in return, standing up and pacing. 

Damian makes the conscious decision to remain seated. “Since I turned sixteen and started paying attention properly.”

Tim freezes in place and turns to him. “Why?”

“Because you are the person in this family full of liars who is most prone to lies that hurt yourself. I needed to make sure I knew when you’re lying about stupid stuff like being able to handle the insane amount of pressure you expose yourself to so I could take steps so you wouldn’t self-destruct.”

“ _ What!?” _ For the first time in years, he can see Tim is truly mad at him.

“Look, I’m sorry. But you do stupid stuff when you think it’s for a worthy goal.”

“And that gives you the right to, to. What did you even do with that information?”

Damian shrugs. “Tell Jon, who’d tell Kon who’d make you take a break.”

He can see Tim is only getting angrier. “I’m not going to apologize for that,” he adds. “Because no matter what you may think, sacrificing yourself is  _ not _ an option. Whoever it was you were afraid you couldn’t save at the time? Trust me, you’re more important than them.”

Just like that all the tension in Tim’s stance evaporates. “Damian…”

He’s incredibly grateful for his darker complexion in that moment because it hides his blush. “I couldn’t read you at all this time. It was confusing, and I know we’re all allowed secrets, but it feels like this one concerns me.”

“Even if it does, it’s up to me whether I share or not,” Tim says, still slightly defensive. Still desperately trying to hide something from Damian. 

“You told Todd.”

“No, he guessed it,” Tim grits out as he finally moves again. Taking slow steps towards Damian. “He guessed and then I had to explain properly. I never would have told him otherwise.”

“But you did tell him.” Damian can admit to himself he’s just a little bit jealous over that. 

“Did you ever think that maybe I simply didn’t  _ want _ anyone to know?” Now Tim is towering over Damian in a way he can only manage because he’s sitting. It breaks his control a little.

“Why? What could possibly be so bad that you still don’t want to say it?” he hisses. “Even when I’m making a disastrous assumption that’s driving us apart. One that you still haven’t outright denied!”

“Because it’s stupid, okay?” Tim explodes, and Damian would think he’s about to grab him or hit him if he didn’t know just how well Tim can control himself. “I know that! I tried for  _ years _ to get you to stop calling me that. Especially in the field. But then you did stop, and I just… I missed it, okay? There. I said it. I missed it and I wanted it back, but it  _ is _ a risk. And I wasn’t about to ask you to call me Drake in private, so… ugh.”

Damian never understood the saying about the light bulb going off, but now he does. Because with a sudden clarity he realizes that Tim is blushing in a way he has no chance of hiding. That’s he’s babbling in a way he only does in  _ very _ specific situations. 

And Damian has always known Tim is disastrous when it comes to communicating romantic feelings. So why did he think it would be any different with him?

“Drake?” he says softly, none of the venom in it that has been there the past weeks. It clashes with the way his hand shoots out to grab the lapel of Tim’s suit jacket. 

“Yeah?” Tim says uncertainty and Damian can’t exactly blame him for being confused in that moment. He can’t help but feel a competitive sense of accomplishment as he makes it even worse with his next action. 

“You’re an imbecile,” he says, before pulling Tim down and pressing their lips together. 

The kiss is brief, chaste even. But Tim does rest his hands on Damian’s shoulders and keeps them there after they part and Damian’s fingers itch for his sketchbook at his flabbergasted but vaguely smiling face. It’s beautiful.

“I feel like that’s even worse flirting than I tend to do,” Tim whispers, as if afraid to break to moment. “You’re supposed to compliment people, Dames, not insult them. 

Damian shrugs, feeling his face heat up further at the nickname. He’d missed being called that as well. He can see why Tim got attached to Drake. “History tells us you respond to unorthodox approaches. Brown hit you in the face with a brick and it somehow turned you on. Besides, it’s the truth.”

Tim opens his mouth, probably to protest, but Damian stands up and places his hands on Tim’s hips to turn them so that he can rest against the desk. “But it’s alright,” he says. “Because I’m an imbecile, too.”

That earns his a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“So what I’m getting from this is that we’re both manipulative assholes that don’t know how to communicate.” Tim’s grinning, his hands still lightly resting on Damian’s shoulders. 

“Now you’re just being ornery.”

“I’m going to go on a limb and say you like it.”

“Yes,” Damian says through a smile that he can’t quite combat. “I do.”

“So why aren’t we kissing right now?”

“Because we’re imbeciles, obviously.”

The second time Damian presses his lips against Tim’s, it’s a lot less chaste, a lot less one-sided. And a hell of a lot less short. 

And if Tam comes in a couple minutes later to scold Damian for not making Tim eat his whole breakfast? It’s totally worth it. 


End file.
